False Confidence

Without You (Wren)

Wren Brooke

I was an utter piece of crap.

Although I'm pretty sure that much was obvious, both from present and past actions.

I hadn't been able to control the violent outburst, not when I heard the furious shpiel from Azriel. I put forth countless efforts to restrain the vile lies that had spilled from my mouth or the needless abuse I had wrought onto his poor scalp. I was so out of it, I had hurt him.

Azriel Huang.

My mate.

I sighed heavily through my nose, silently storming towards the driver's seat as dust wildly kicked up beneath me from the fast pace of my feet. It took less than a minute to settle behind the wheel, my knuckles white with force as I struggled to buckle in. 

I hoped and begged for the words Azriel had seethed to be anything but the truth, for everything to simply be a product of his stress and my inconsistent behavior. It was a naive thought but I hadn't failed to notice that every thought I had concerning my mate was some degree of naive. Even so, I wasn't completely delusional in the matter, I knew that I deserved his hatred, his frustration, and his resentment. I had done it to myself, but every time I addressed his growing abhorrence for me, I felt the violent urge to spill my guts. Everything awful I had ever done to him was a reaction-- a wounded response to the feeling and knowledge that Azriel loathed me. Ranging from when I blocked in his car to prevent his date with Alex, to stopping his attempts at reconciling with the boy.

At first, I thought that I simply crossed Azriel because I disliked him. My first impressions of him were vastly conflicting, a whirlwind of confusion and disharmonious emotions.

I scanned the Northrun Pack House in triumph, drinking in the vibrant scene of flashing party lights and smoke clinging to the air like a cloudy stain. Various scents filled my nose, mainly booze, and weed along with the distinct aroma of Northrun wolves. They all smelled like pine and fresh snow at first but shifted into their own unique scents. It was addictively satisfying, observing how they all had the same musk until it unraveled into various fragrances. Despite my hatred for the pack, it was hard not to be intrigued by their status and customs. Any pack from The Ten was a thing to behold, let alone the Second pack in the rankings. Their Pack House rivaled that of a palace, Northrun practically owning the whole city of Chicago and its surrounding suburbs. Not even counting the smaller packs they commanded throughout the Midwest.

It was no wonder how they had managed to take down the my own pack and crumbled down the small empire that it was. Now Eastborne, truly known as the Stellvolantes Pack, was nicknamed the fallen angels. The powerhouse pack being brought down in a matter of days, Northrun truly making history. It had been done almost right before my birth, so Northrun's territory was a genuine, mind-boggling feat. it also made me all the more bitter.

"Yooo, is that who I think it is?" A tenor voice drunkenly chuckled from behind me, spurring me into turning towards the source of the voice. A muscular guy around my age with blonde hair and a large nose stood tall, a decently attractive woman clinging to his left arm. Again, that snow and pine smell greeted me, only to disappear as soon as it came before melting into different odors.

"Eastborne Angel, huh?" The guy huffed out the insulting label, reaching his hand out for a handshake. Fighting the immediate irritation the male caused me, I took his warm hand in mine, giving him a firm squeeze.

"Wren." I corrected with a tight smile. He was evidently an oily character who made me want to ram my fist into his face but I needed to fit in the best I could with any pack members who would allow me. They'd be my key to finding the Moonstone. Just like my mother had instructed, I had to be out of here sometime after my birthday, given that my excuse for staying in their territory was 'finding my mate.' Like I gave a singular shit about that.